Poetry is a knife
Its words lasers
Cutting through beliefs
Long held
Dissecting perception
Probing philosophy and morals
As we make our unsure way
Through the void
Each step taken without the support
Of certainty
We find ourselves staring into the sun
Our wax wings long melted
Our long fall feeling like flight
Are we demented birds
Or angels as we soar
Wingless but aloft forever?